One is a member of a country, a profession, a civilization, a religion. One is not just a man.

Cries of despair, misery, sobbing grief are a kind of wealth.

A goal without a pan is just a wish.

You cannot plant an acorn in the morning, and expect that afternoon to sit in the shade of an oak.

One can be a brother only in something. Where there is no tie that binds men, men are not united but merely lined up.

A man's age is something impressive, it sums up his life: maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves. A man's age represents a fine cargo of experience and memories.

Horror causes men to clench their fists, and in horror men join together.